


Call Back Yesterday

by jesterlady



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Episode Related, Episode: s05e07 Amy's Choice, Episode: s05e09 Cold Blood, Episode: s05e13 The Big Bang, F/M, One Shot, Romance, Science Fiction, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Rory dies each time, Amy is the one to feel the loss and the joy as he always comes back to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Back Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Time is Out of Joint](https://archiveofourown.org/works/284142) by [jesterlady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady). 



> You should read it first.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own DW. Some lines are from the show. The title is by Thomas Heywood.  
> 

The first time Rory died hadn't been confusing for her at all. It was very straightforward. 

He was there one minute, recently minus stupid ponytail, and then he had been dust on the floor and their baby was kicking her incessantly. Yes, it was straightforward, clear pain and there had never been any hesitation about what to do. Amy berated the Doctor for a moment because that's what one did, went to the Doctor for help and then, when he couldn't deliver, made up one's own mind. 

She hadn't really meant what she said; after all, she was just lashing out in pain. That's what she could remember later. But at that moment it had been all tunnel vision, all Rory-focused, all Rory-bereft. That was the worst feeling she'd ever experienced. Worse than the night she'd waited for the Doctor, worse than no one ever believing her about his existence, worse than the two years he'd been gone the last time. Rory gone was worse than all the Doctor's absences put together.

Everything she'd ever said and done or not said and done came before her mind's eye and she'd wanted to scream. She had been so inconsiderate. She'd been so caught up in her own life she'd never bothered to notice how patient Rory was, how kind, how steady, how funny, how entirely loveable. He'd died never knowing because she was flippity-jibbet Amy who fixated on Raggedy Doctors and sashayed around the universe thinking they had all the time in the world. They probably would have had back on Earth, but not here, not in the Tardis, not in the dangerous life of the Doctor's. She'd dragged Rory into it, she'd never listened to him, and she’d never given him the things that truly mattered. 

So it all became entirely clear. Crash the van and put an end to existence without Rory. There was no choice, but thank God there was a choice because if it had been entirely too real, entirely Rory-gone, entirely reality, she would have done the exact same thing. So she'd stalked out to meet her death and to end the illusion and there had been no sensation of death, no pain, it was simply like waking up from a dream. There he'd been, icy still and white, but not dust and ashes. They'd clung to each other, so very cold, but she'd never felt more on fire.

Of course that had been a dream, too, but it didn't matter because it had felt real and even when the Doctor shoved her at her fiancée, she'd still not been able to say those three important words. He hadn't seemed to mind though and she could tell he understood by the way he'd kissed her. It had been confident and possessive and she'd loved it. He'd even still given her the choice.

It wasn't until later after they'd saved another planet and done a lot of running and were in their bed together, limbs sliding and lips meeting, that she'd said it. She'd whispered it softly and he'd gone completely still, then renewed his movements with an almost desperate passion that she'd reciprocated.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you, idiot.”

He'd smiled, a great big, Rory-smile, and kissed her again and again and again.

“I love you, too, Amy.”

The second time Rory died had been anything but straightforward. It was very confusing, especially since she didn't even remember it till later. It had been fast, motivated by the insistent hand of the clock that rushed them all to their deaths. Rory, the big, dumb, self-sacrificing idiot, had saved the Doctor. She'd never loved him more, of course, but why, why had he done it? There had been screaming and crying and flailing and fighting and the next day she'd wondered why her hands were black and blue and her eyes red and the Doctor had just looked away and wouldn't answer.

It just hadn't been fair. But life with the Doctor wasn't fair and she'd figured that out the last time Rory had died. But now it was worse because there was no chance this was a dream, there was no possibility of him coming back. That light, that awful, horrible light, had swallowed him whole, just like those men before, and this time it was Rory. It was her Rory. He was just lying there cold beneath the Earth and the Doctor hadn't done anything but clutch her head and say a lot of words she couldn't concentrate on. Nothing was clear, nothing made sense. But she'd tried. She'd tried her hardest to remember. 

Rory with all his humanity and imperfections and glory and sincerity and skill and awkwardness and good-good-goodness. His perfection. He was perfect for her. She'd found her soulmate, her one, her Mr. Right, her whatever other stupid thing the storybooks said, and then he slipped through her mind like quicksand and she'd desperately tried to stop the cracks, tried to keep some semblance of him with her. She’d wanted to honor him now more than ever, wanted to keep him, wanted him to be happy. But he was dead, dead, forgotten and then there had been a huge crash and she wasn't thinking about anything other than the fact that they were all about to die unless they rocketed out of the Earth.

She'd remembered all of that later, but just then it was almost like living through life in a fog. She was happy; she was universe-wandering with her Doctor, why wouldn't she be happy? Yet there was always something in the back of her mind and she always felt like there was something she was missing. Like she'd lost something or forgotten something or both. It had been an annoying feeling, a constant irritation in her head and the Doctor was no help at all. Sometimes he would say something stupid and enigmatic about forgotten things, if they were important, always being able to return. Or he would just turn away from her, looking ridiculously sad for no reason at all. It had frustrated her to no end. Most days she woke up with tears on her cheeks and she had no idea why. Sometimes she cried without even realizing it as she had when walking with Vincent Van Gogh of all people. She'd lived that way for too long. Way too long. Missing a dream.

Then it had all started. A ring box that made no sense and yet was somehow incredibly important, a sudden flurry of activity, going back to her favorite period of history, meeting River again, finding the Pandorica, and fighting the Cyberman. Then there'd been some sort of glorious Roman centurion who'd rescued her and when he'd pulled his helmet off she'd felt such a weird sense of familiarity and then…blackness. Of course that had been gone when she'd woken up and she'd barely noticed the look of complete and utter brokenness on his face when she hadn't recognized him. It was amazing the vision that hindsight gave. Or sudden returned memories once thought lost through the cracks of the universe.

Sitting there at Stonehenge, bundled up with a Roman blanket, Amy had felt entirely lost. When this strange Roman had snuck up beside her she'd felt curiously comfortable and then she'd started crying and she hadn't known why. It had made him smile and she'd idly wondered about the strangeness of this man who liked to see girls cry. But it hadn't bothered her, instead she'd wanted to punch his shoulder and then kiss him. That was strange because, while she'd always been an adventurous one, willing to have a good time with just about anyone, she wasn't in the habit of kissing complete strangers. She thought so anyway. There seemed to be a great deal about her life that she couldn't quite remember and it had never seemed to be important till that very moment.

Everything about that moment had been crazy. All the Romans started acting strangely and this one, this Rory, had yelled at her to run and then...she'd remembered, remembered it all. His crooked smile in the mornings and the way he arranged his food around before he ate it and his favorite color and the feel of his lips and just exactly where his most ticklish spot was and the moment he'd asked her to marry him and their first kiss and what he was like as a child and his excitement at passing his medical exams and their late night bike rides and their trips in the Tardis and the first time he'd died and then the second and then the awfulness of a nothing life without him.

“...Williams. Rory Williams from Ledworth, my boyfriend. How could I ever forget you?”

It was a strange bit of deja-vu because this time _she_ was the Doctor and she was holding Rory and she was pleading with _him_ to remember who he was and she was the one trying to bring him back and she'd felt outraged at the universe that she could remember him and then have lost him all in that one moment. But then there had been a strange clicking sound and she'd died.

Which had been ironic as hell when she'd woken up, especially seeing her younger self in front of her. Then...then seeing that video playing. Talk about undying devotion. How could she ever have forgotten such a man? She didn't know and she didn't have time to figure it out because even though her heart had broken to see it, the Doctor was there and then so was Rory. Everything was back to the way it had been. Apart from him being made out of plastic. Yeah, that was new, but his lips had felt exactly the same and she absolutely was going to keep kissing those things forever.

The third time Rory died they all died with him. Her and the Doctor and River and the world as they knew it. They'd been sitting there on the floor, clutching each others' hands while the Doctor said stupid things like Geronimo and committed memory suicide. It had been brave and pathetic and all the things she'd come to expect from the two men in her life. But the Doctor wasn't just killing himself, he was killing worlds he'd saved or would save, he was butchering the past, present, and future because it already had been killed. He was killing River, who would now never get to reveal those spoilers. He was killing Rory, who had only just begun to live again, (at least for her) and he was killing her, who would never have a choice this time.

Of course she'd brought him back. He'd fixed the universe and she'd fixed him. She and Rory had gotten married and they were all happy in the Tardis. Right as rain. Except for not. Rory was different now. Maybe this last change had been too much for him. He wasn't a Timelord and he hadn't grown up with the universe playing around in his head. He was quieter, sometimes he got memories mixed up and sometime she thought (she feared) that he might hate their life and could leave at any moment. She'd have to follow him because she already knew she couldn't live without him. But she didn't want to live without the Doctor either. So she waited.

Rory had trouble sleeping. Sometimes it seemed like it was nightmares and she would have to mentally remind herself that to him he'd been someone else and done other things and felt the guilt of those lives. She wished he would believe her when she said she didn't blame him for killing her. It hadn't even been him him. But he'd melded all their lives into one and she couldn't and therein was a problem. When he would get up in the middle of the night, sometimes gasping out her name, she'd distract him the only way she knew how, with herself. But other times either she didn't hear him or he just felt like wandering. She suspected that was because, for him, he sometimes felt like he still didn't need to sleep. Plastic needs no recharging, he'd muttered once. She felt helpless and Amy hated feeling helpless.

There were other changes like how protective he was of her. Sometimes she felt a bit smothered, but mostly she just felt unworthy. He had automatic habits that just didn't work anymore. Whenever he thought she might be in danger, he'd thrust her behind him and hold out his hand, his no-longer-plastic hand, and then his shoulders would sag and she'd feel like crying. 

The funniest change was how knowledgeable about history he was. Sometimes he and the Doctor would argue for hours over some forgotten detail about the Black Plague or the Industrial Revolution or the fall of Rome. That was a big one with them. Those were the changes none of them seemed to mind. She liked sitting between her boys, hand threaded with Rory's, eating whatever culinary delight the Tardis had come up with and listening to them discuss exactly how Napoleon had executed that maneuver. Those happy times were negated for her when he would wake up screaming. 

It wasn't like she couldn't emphasize with him. She still felt the weight and guilt of having forgotten him, of having left him to die and be swallowed by the light. True, she'd tried her hardest not to, but guilt wasn't always rational. There were times when she'd wake up in the night, having relived his deaths over and over again, each time with him never coming back. She could even get mad at him for feeling like he had lost his identity when she had lost him. He was so important, he was vital and he couldn't seem to see that.

But she wasn't made to dwell and she wasn't made for useless displays of emotion or self-pity. When she broke down there was a bloody good reason for it. And, really, there was nothing for anybody to be unhappy about. The Doctor was back, Rory was back, she was back, and the Tardis was back. They were all back to their original paths and the universe itself had been healed. She was married to the most wonderful man in the universe and traveled with the second and their lives were simply fantastic. It was only in the darkest hours of the night, especially when Rory was out pacing the halls, that she felt uneasy. 

It wasn't until he blew up at the Doctor that Amy realized there was more to the problem than she'd known. She wanted to kick Rory for being so stupid and for not telling her and she wanted to hug him and tell him she was sorry and promise to be better. But she didn't do any of those things because the Doctor was the one doing things, probably doing them better than she could. So she didn't say anything and she didn't even look anything when Rory looked at her. There was an interesting feeling of letting go, of letting this be his choice. Rory's choice. To keep traveling or to go. To keep the memories or to let them go.

“Is that something you feel like you need?”

The Doctor's question rang in the air and she wanted to scream out no. No, he couldn't take Rory’s memories. She was sorry, so sorry that he had them, but she didn't want to lose any part of him. Didn't want to lose the memory of his ultimate sacrifice and how she'd be trying to make it up to him for the rest of his life. She wanted to give him something, anything to make him feel better, but all she could do was stand and wait for his decision.

“No,” then another, “no,” then a final resounding yell, “No! Those memories, those lives are mine and I paid for them. I won't let you take them away.”

Her heart sang, as silly as it sounded, she still felt like that was exactly what was happening. He'd somehow had a revelation and found who he really was and that was the third time that Rory came back to life and came back to her.

When the Doctor had finished failing utterly at subtle charades Rory walked toward her.

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

It was really a stupid question, but what sort of wife would she be if she didn't ask?

“I'm better.”

He couldn't lie to save his life so she knew it was true and she knew that everything would be okay. So she hit him. She'd been wanting to for awhile and, after all, life just wasn't worthwhile unless she was abusing him a little bit and worshiping him with everything else.

“That’s for scaring me to death.”

She told him to come to her and how it wasn't her job to just look after him and the Doctor and their stupid emotions. He said he'd make it up to her, offering...sexual favors in remorse. That she could get behind. But she gave him one final thing in return.

“And just so you know, it says Pond-Williams on the certificate.”

His face said everything about that. She ordered him into the bedroom and he scooped her up and carried her in there and she knew that she'd finally gotten him back and this time for good. Yet, somehow, she felt that no matter how many times Rory Williams died, he'd always come back to her.


End file.
